


enough

by doja



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Arguing, Enemies to Lovers, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, High School, Kyman - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doja/pseuds/doja
Summary: Kyle and Cartman get a lot more than they bargained for after getting locked in the basement together.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman
Comments: 10
Kudos: 159





	enough

Eric Cartman had changed a lot since elementary school. He had become what some may consider a good person or at least someone who averaged out on the morality scale. That being said, he wasn’t entirely exempt from bad behavior. For example, on this particular Saturday Cartman had invited Butters over to do what he labelled a “school project”, which in reality, was another one of his schemes.

“So, what’s the plan, Eric?” he asked.

“Well, Butters, as you know, it’s bake sale season at school,” Cartman said, flipping through a few pages of his notebook. “And I realized the girls’ve got something lucrative going on there.”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. “Who doesn’t like baked goods?”

“Exactly my point,” he said, clicking his pen. “So I figured, why not cash in on it?”

As the two were teenagers at this point, Butters had matured enough to know when Cartman was up to no good. Yes, Cartman had definitely improved over years, having worked on himself, but every now and then he got up to no good all over again...so as previously stated, this was one of those moments.

“Oh, but...what charity are we going to donate all the money to?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he smirked. “All the proceeds of our bake sale are going to _The Eric Cartman’s Bank Account Foundation.”_

Butters’s brows furrowed. Ah, yes, classic Cartman behavior. “What?!”

“Don’t you see, Butters?!” he enthused. “We can make a buttload of money just selling stupid store-bought baked goods! Everyone knows the girls jack up the prices. We can make a real profit, here!”

“Eric, those bake sales are for charity!” he glared. “We can’t just steal from them!”

“But, Butters!” he scoffed. “Don’t you know all those charities just use the money people donate to them to pay off their CEO’s vacation homes in Europe?”

“I don’t think that’s true!”

“Open your _eyes,_ Butters!” Cartman grabbed him by the shoulders. “We, the 99%, we’re the ones who need charity. We’re the ones at the _bottom_ who need _financial support!”_

“Oh, I don’t know,” Butters hesitated. “This sounds like a trick.”

“It’s not a trick,” he insisted. “We are going to make a shitload of money, Butters. Take back from the 1%.”

Right on cue, the front door slammed open. Butters winced at the sound, but Cartman had predicted this. It was exactly what happened every time he had a terrible (incredible) idea. Whether it was sooner or later, the hate of his life would come bursting through the door the moment he was needed most.

“Kyle!” Cartman exclaimed. “You can’t just burst in, I could’ve been naked!”

“I heard you were opening a table at the bake sale,” Kyle glared. “What’s your ulterior motive?!”

“Alright, who told you?” he rolled his eyes. “Was it Wendy? Kenny? Oh, I know...it was that snake, Dougie…”

“I’m on student council, moron,” Kyle shoved his iPhone into Cartman’s face. “We’re the ones who go organize everyone who registers a table and _your_ name is _right here_ on this list, _right here!_ What’re you up to?”

“Why, whatever do you mean by that, Kyle?” he feigned innocence. “I’m only trying to help raise money for a good cause.”

“Bullshit!” Kyle narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never seen you do one single clarity event for the school, and now suddenly you’ve taken an interest?”

“Come on, Butters,” Cartman scoffed. “Tell Kyle about our plan to help all the less fortunate.”

Butters’s eyes darted between the two. It was never safe to get between Kyle and Cartman. Heidi Turner was prime proof of that. “Oh, uh. Well, I don’t know exactly what to say…”

“Oh, come on,” Kyle folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not stupid. I’ve got you _all_ figured out already. You found out how much money the girls made from last week’s sales and now you want to turn a profit, but I’m putting my foot down!”

Cartman glared in return. “That’s not fair! I wanna help people!”

“You wanna help _yourself!”_

“So why should I give money to people when _I_ need money? Huh, Kyle? Have you _seen_ this shithole?”

“Here’s an idea, asshole...get a _job!”_

“See what I mean, Butters, it’s _all_ about the 1%! Kyle is the 1% and he’s trying to crush our _dreams!”_

It was just about all Butters could take. Years and years and years later, Kyle and Cartman were still fighting. It was a cycle...sometimes they were on good terms: matching Halloween costumes, playing video games with each other _all_ alone in Kyle’s living room, getting a little too close to be platonic…

But time and time again, they argued. Butters was convinced that Cartman just brought him along as the middle man in some sort of sick twisted scheme to get Kyle closer to him. Like he knew that Kyle would give him the attention he so desperately craved as long as he kept him engaged in some sort of conflict.

Butters was entirely certain that Cartman had a gigantic crush on Kyle. As Kenny also suspected. And maybe even Stan. Butters had once stumbled upon Cartman’s diary too and that had been a site he wished he could wipe from his mind. So many drawings of Kyle. Too many drawings of Kyle.

They were _still_ fighting. At the end of the day, Kyle would fold and join in on Cartman’s scheme, try to “fix” the problem and improve on Cartman’s character, then get nothing out of it but the dissatisfaction of knowing again, he had failed to make Cartman any better. And again, Cartman would convince himself that he was okay with the little bit of attention he’d received from Kyle, despite the parts of him deep down that longed for more.

“Why can’t you just _try_ doing something selfless for _once_ in your _life?!”_

“I am selfless! I’m _selfless,_ Kyle, I’m a _saint!”_

“That’s _it!”_

Kyle and Cartman turned their attention over to Butters, whose face was twisted in a rage.

Cartman raised a brow. “Butters?”

“I’m sick and tired of all the fighting!” he yelled. “You two need to work things out!”

Kyle glared. “Butters, it’s not _my_ fault. I’m just trying to make su–”

“–you’re just as bad as Eric is!” he fumed. “No more fighting! _NO MORE!”_

Cartman rolled his eyes. “God damn it, Butters, calm down. It’s not my fault Kyle has a–”

“–no, that’s enough!” he grabbed each of them by the wrists, dragging them towards the back of the house. “I’m not putting up with it no more!”

“Butters!” Cartman whined.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kyle glared. Surprisingly, Butters maintained a tight grip. “Let go of me!”

 _“Get in there!”_ Butters tugged open the door to the basement, pushing Kyle and Cartman through the doorway. Kyle less-than-gracefully tripped down the stairs.

“Jesus Christ, Butters!” Cartman exclaimed. “I could’ve fallen down the stairs! And I’d sue!”

 _“HEY!”_ Kyle shouted. “You pushed me down the stairs, Butters!”

“I’ve had enough of you two! We all have!” Butters glared. “You and Kyle aren’t allowed to come back upstairs until you’re friends. _No more fighting!”_

“Butters, wait!” Cartman called, and the door was slammed in his face. “Fuck you, Butters, what the fuck?!”

Kyle clutched at his freshly injured ankle. “Hey! _Butters!”_

Cartman pounded on the door. “Open the fucking door, Butters, god damn it!”

“Why is there even a _lock_ on your basement door?!” Kyle scoffed. “And why does it lock from the _outside?!”_

“It’s your fault to begin with!” Cartman pointed his finger in Kyle’s direction, stomping down the staircase. “Me and Butters’s business plan is none of your business!”

“Oh, so you admit it wasn’t for charity,” Kyle glared, rising back up onto his feet. “You admit it was another scheme!”

“How is it a scheme if _I_ need money?!” Cartman asked. “I mean, again, Kyle, just look at this shithole!”

“No one is forcing you not to go out and get a job!”

“In this economy?!”

“You’re just looking for excuses!”

“It’s not an excuse if it’s the truth!”

“It doesn’t mean you have to steal from the less fortunate!”

“Oh, like you weren’t heading all the way over here just to cash in on our plan, too!” Cartman glared, crossing his arms over his chest. Now, he hadn’t made a terrible point. Kyle did have a history of attempting to thwart Cartman’s plans only to join in on them with the insistence he was doing so as damage control. This was about partially true...it was usually a mixture of damage control, a small part of it that he actually enjoyed, but mostly it was another futile attempt to save Cartman from himself.

“I wasn’t,” he snapped. “I came over here to make sure you weren’t up to no _good,_ as _usual.”_

“Hypocrite!”

“Derelict!”

 _“HEY!”_ There was a bang from the door to the basement. _“I still hear fighting! I’m not letting you out until you stop fighting!”_

“Oh, great!” Kyle rolled his eyes, raising his arms in exasperation. “Now I’m gonna miss my plans. I’m not staying down here!”

“Oh, ‘cause I wanna stay down here?” Cartman scoffed. “I have plans too.”

“Oh, really?” Kyle raised a brow. “What’re your “plans”, huh? Robbing a homeless shelter?”

“Like homeless people would have anything worth stealing.”

“Argh, are you kidding me?!” Kyle shouted. “You’re the worst!”

“Get me _out of here!”_

Kyle paced back up the basement stairs, then banging his fists against the door. “Butters, open the damn door right now!”

_“No!”_

“Butters, open the door or I swear to god!” Cartman screamed. “Let us _out!”_

“I’m not doing anything until you stop fighting!” Butters retorted. “Figure it out!”

And then, there was a sound from the kitchen of a slamming door. Not the basement door, that door was already closed. The terribleness of their situation hit the two of them right then and there.

Kyle and Cartman stared at each other.

“Was that the sound of the backdoor closing?” Kyle’s face turned stony.

Cartman frowned awkwardly. “Um...maybe?”

“Ugh, you have to be _kidding_ me! He fucking _left!_ The one person who can get us out of here, and Butters fucking _left!”_ Kyle exclaimed. He stormed down the stairs, tripping back down the bottom two steps with his already injured ankle. “My entire day is screwed up!”

“Hey, you were the one who decided to come over here and stick your nose in my business in the first place,” Cartman rolled his eyes, unlocking his iPhone and tapping away at the screen.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kyle glared.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re on your phone.”

“So?”

 _“So,_ I left my phone upstairs, so if _you_ have a phone, we can call someone and get them to open the door,” he scoffed.

“Ugh. Fine, I’ll call someone.”

“So call someone.”

“I am calling someone,” he glared. Cartman’s face changed in an instant as he giggled at whatever was on his screen. 

Kyle stalked over to him, grabbing the phone out of Cartman’s hand to discover, of course, he _wasn’t_ calling anyone.

“Hey!” Cartman snapped. “Give it back!”

“You’re not calling anyone, you’re watching TikToks!”

“Well, it’s better than listening to you!” he glared.

“I’m calling Stan,” Kyle pushed Cartman away, searching through his contacts. “He’ll come unlock the door for us.”

“You can’t call Stan,” Cartman folded his arms over his chest.

“Oh, really?” he glared. “And why’s that?”

“Because we don’t get _reception_ in the basement, and also, my phone’s about to die,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Well, it’s worth a try,” Kyle clicked on Stan’s contact. “Since apparently, I’m the only one who cares about getting out of here.”

“Oh, no, trust me, Kyle,” Cartman laughed. “I’d rather be anywhere else than here with you.”

“Stan? _Stan?_ Stan, Cartman and I are–” and then, the screen went black. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“I told you it was about to die.”

“Now look at what you’ve done,” Kyle paced around in circles. “Our only way out left, no way to call anyone, and I’m trapped down here with _you.”_

“Oh, right, Kyle. Because being trapped in the basement with you is my absolute dream come true,” Cartman spoke facetiously, sinking into the couch. “You’re a delight.”

“What is there to do down here?” Kyle sighed. “There’s no TV, and we don’t have phones.”

“We can’t all be rich, _Kyle,”_ he glared. “Where am I gonna get a second TV from?”

“Isn’t there one in your _bedroom?”_

“We can’t all afford to own three TVs!”

Kyle shook his head, realizing the severity of their situation. How on Earth were the two of them going to stick it out in the basement for possibly hours? Maybe even days...Liane Cartman was anything but a reliable mother. “Where’s your mom?”

“Huh? Oh, I don’t know,” Cartman shrugged. “Maybe running errands. Or maybe in Denver, I don’t know.”

“So let me get this straight: you’re telling me, you have literally no idea where your mother is, or even when she’s coming back,” Kyle gawked.

“So?”

“So she might be our only way out, asshole!” he snapped. “Butters _left_ and we have no way of communicating with anyone. We’re relying on _Butters_ and your _mom_ here. Our _fate_ lies in the hands of _Butters_ and your _mom.”_

Cartman blinked. If he had to rely on Butters and his mother to get out of his basement, that was essentially a life sentence. He was going to be trapped in his shitty old basement with Kyle Broflovski for the rest of his life. In a fit of desperation, Cartman made a mad dash for the staircase, where he began pounding on the door. _“WE’RE NEVER GETTING OUT OF HERE!”_

“Great,” Kyle scoffed, sitting back up against the wall. “This couldn’t get any better.”

Eventually, Cartman ran out of energy and headed back down the stairs in defeat, slumping back down into the couch. “What the _fuck!_ I hate this!”

“Yeah, it’s not all that much fun for me either,” Kyle mumbled.

The two sat in silence for what had to be at least half an hour. There was no speaking, no communication, but at least there was also no arguing. Cartman pulled at a loose stitch on his hoodie and Kyle kept track of the minutes they’d been down there on his fingers. All was well until Cartman started singing to himself absent-mindedly. That was a habit he’d had since childhood that the others had all gotten used to, even if they didn’t particularly enjoy it. This time he was singing some recent radio pop song, but often it was 90s R&B. That seemed to be a favorite.

“Do you have to do that?” Kyle muttered.

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Do what?”

“You’re singing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you not like my singing? ‘Cause my choral teacher thinks I have the voice of an _angel,”_ he snapped. “Go away if you hate it so much.”

“Go away? In case you’ve forgotten, _we are trapped in your basement.”_

Cartman spun around to face Kyle. “Then go sit at the other end of the basement! God damnit, Kyle! I can’t solve _all_ your problems for you!”

Kyle’s jaw practically dropped to the floor. “When have you ever solved any of _my_ problems?!”

“I don’t know!” he sputtered. He had saved Kyle’s life once or twice, and Kyle had done the very same for him, but those were both stories they planned on taking to the grave.

“Whatever, fine,” Kyle narrowed his eyes. “I’m moving.”

But he didn't get very far before he forgot about his sprained ankle. As soon as his feet were forced to support his weight, Kyle winced in pain and clutched his ankle. It definitely wasn’t broken, but it didn’t feel good. 

_“Ow!”_ he pinched his eyes shut.

“What?” asked Cartman.

“I tripped down the stairs earlier when Butters threw us down here,” he mumbled. “Do you have any ice down here?”

“Uh, yeah,” he shrugged. “In the deep freezer. Why?”

“Did you not just hear me? Because my _ankle_ hurts, and I have basketball practice later,” he tried rising to his feet again. Sure, he could stand fine enough, but Kyle was certain exercise was out of the question.

“Oh. Uh, right, you fell,” Cartman noted. “Do you want ice or anything?”

“Yeah, I do. That’s why I asked for it.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry,” he rolled his eyes, heading over to the deep freeze for an ice pack. “I’ll get you some ice.”

“Thank you.”

Cartman dug through the freezer for a bright blue ice pack. He grabbed a cloth from the laundry and wrapped it around the pack, bringing it back over to Kyle who was still rubbing his ankle in pain. He bit his lip watching as Kyle slumped down into the couch, casually tucking a shaggy, auburn curl behind his ear. When he wasn’t angrily ranting about something stupid, he was a tall and attractive basketball player and that was a curse. 

“Hello?” Kyle turned around with a glare. “Where’s my ice pack?”

“Here,” Cartman rolled his eyes, passing over the wrapped pack and taking a seat right next to him.

He held the ice pack against his ankle with a sigh. “Great. Even if we get out of here on time, there’s no way I’ll be able to practice.”

“Oh, no. Whatever will the South Park Cows do without their star bovine?”

“I hope you know you’re to blame for this,” Kyle shook his head.

“Again, _Kyle,_ nobody asked you to come over,” Cartman reiterated. “And yet, here you are, blaming all your problems on me.”

“Do you seriously think this is all my own fault?” he asked.

“Yes. I do,” he glared. “Our plan was none of your business.”

“Except that it is,” Kyle insisted, shaking his head. “If I know you’re doing something bad and I don’t do something about it, I’m just as bad as you.”

“But it’s none. Of your. _Business!”_ he snapped.

“Yes, it _is!”_

“Why is it _your_ business?!”

“Because you’re my obligation,” Kyle admitted, slamming down the ice pack. “And if I don’t do anything about you, the blame is on me.”

“You don’t have to do any of that,” Cartman said. “I never asked you to! You just love being a pain in my ass.”

“Are you really that stupid?” he narrowed his eyes. “I’m not trying to ruin anything for you. I’m not “interfering” in your plans to ruin your life. I’m helping you.”

"If you wanted to help me, you’d just let me do what I need to do,” he rolled his eyes.

“No, I wouldn't,” he glared. “Do you seriously think I’d be doing you any good by just letting you do horrible things like that?”

“It’s not horrible to _me,”_ he insisted. “I wasn’t lying, Kyle, I need money!”

“Again, then...get a job,” he shook his head. “Get a job instead of taking advantage of a charitable cause.”

“I _can’t_ get a job,” Cartman rolled his eyes. “No one will hire me.”

“So you’ve tried?”

“Duh. I’m not poor by choice, asshole,” he muttered.

“And _why_ won’t anyone hire you?”

“Because...I’m gay?”

“You can’t blame all your problems on homophobia.”

“Then what’s the point of being gay?!”

“You know why no one will hire you?” Kyle asked. “It’s because you have a terrible reputation and you have a terrible reputation because you do terrible things.”

He shrugged. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Yeah, I know you have,” Kyle agreed. “But now look at you. You’re trying to set up a bake sale to trick people into donating...and then you’re going to take those _profits..._ and use them on _yourself..._ taking away from _actual_ sales that will go towards _actual_ people in need. Do you see why that might be _wrong?”_

Cartman pondered this for a moment. Kyle could practically see the mechanics of his brain in motion. “Well, Kyle, I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he said. “I just needed an easy way to make money.”

“And there lies the problem,” he continued. “You aren’t thinking about other people. You’re only thinking of yourself.”

“Yeah, but who isn’t?” he glared. “You’re telling _me,_ you’ve never done anything self–serving, ever, Kyle?”

“Well... _no,”_ Kyle scoffed. “But I do make an effort to think about other people and how my actions will impact them. You don’t do that.”

“Because you can afford to think that way. You’re rich. If you didn’t donate to charity, you’d be selfish. I actually need money,” he emphasized. “I’m thinking for myself because I don’t have the option.”

Kyle pondered this. He almost, _almost,_ understood what Cartman was saying, but then turned around in disgust. “No, no, that’s not the point! What don’t you understand?” he glared. “Sure, you might _need_ money. But you don’t need money the way that poor people need money.”

“Hello?! Kyle?! My mom is a crack whore!” he snapped. “My mom is literally a _crack whore!”_

“What do you need money for?!” Kyle spat. “What do you need money for _so_ desperately?!”

“School!”

“Oh,” Kyle muttered. “I didn’t know you were going to university.”

“Yeah, duh,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s the most efficient way to get rich. My backup plan is starting a pyramid scheme.”

“Of course it is,” Kyle glared. “Even so, you were never going to make enough money from a high school bake sale to go to college.”

“Yeah, duh,” he shrugged. “That’s not the only way I was gonna make money.”

“I didn’t know there were actual reasons you did terrible things.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” he said. “I mean, sure, it’d be nice to have a little pocket money too, but I really do need it for school.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“Because it’s none of your business.”

“I already explained to you why that’s my business,” Kyle explained. “I’m obligated.”

“But, _why?”_ he scoffed. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Kyle sighed. There really wasn’t a valid explanation for this. After all, it wasn’t as if Butters was making an effort to stop Cartman and he knew Cartman was up to no good. Butters was just someone who could be easily manipulated, but even then, Butters only put up with so much, especially now that they were older. Stan and Kenny didn’t really care if Cartman was up to no good unless it impacted either of them. They used to join in on Kyle whenever he made it his personal mission to shut down whatever terrible thing Cartman was doing, but they hadn’t cared for a long time.

This meant Kyle was the only one who could possibly save the world from Cartman: or at least that’s how he saw it.

But that proposed another great question: was Cartman really up to no good anymore? If it wasn’t enough to get anyone else besides Kyle involved, was it really anything that serious? In his youth, Eric Cartman had served as a consistent inconvenience to South Park, Colorado, as well as the United States of America and possibly the entire world. And often, Kyle Broflovski, personally. But mostly just the general population of the town or school, and ironically, himself. He was the one who suffered the most at his own hands.

Being honest with himself, Kyle would realize he was protecting Cartman from himself more than he was protecting the world from Cartman. And if he had been putting this much effort into protecting Cartman for this many years, that meant something entirely different than what anyone who knew Kyle and Cartman from an outside perspective knew: it meant Kyle cared for him. 

“I...because I have an obligation to make sure you aren’t hurting other people,” he shrugged. “It’s that simple.”

“But it’s only ever _me.”_

“You’re the only person causing this much trouble.”

“But only _you_ seem bothered by it,” Cartman said. “Nobody else cares.”

“Nobody else _has_ to care, because _I_ always make sure you’re taken care of,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Do you not see that?”

“But why even bother, Kyle?” he raised a brow. “If you think I’m up to nothing but trouble and that I’m so terrible, why even bother?”

Kyle shook his head. “Because...well…” he sighed. “Cartman, I don’t think you’re _all_ bad.”

“Uh, yeah you do,” he sneered. “You only remind me of it every single day of my life.”

“Well, you know what? Often, it’s warranted,” he glared. “But over the years, as we’ve gotten to know each other...I mean...I have seen a change in you. But I don’t think you see the potential for change in yourself.”

“And why do _you_ think you’re the highest moral authority, huh?” he asked. “What makes you such a good judge of character?”

“I’ve never claimed to be perfect but at least I’m not _you,”_ he snapped. “Anyone can look at your actions and see clear as day that you lack the very most basic of morality.”

“But you just _said_ I’m not _all_ bad!” he scoffed.

“Yeah, I said you’re not _all_ bad, but that doesn’t mean you’re _good_ either!”

“If you think I have the “potential for growth” then why the hell won’t you just let me grow, huh?” he asked, turning on his side to face Kyle head-on. “All you ever do is interfere with my plans!”

“You should be _thanking_ me!” Kyle rose to his feet. “If I didn’t interfere in all your terrible plans, you won’t even _be_ here! I’ve spent my whole life saving you from yourself.”

“So, your problem with me is...what...that I don’t appreciate you not minding your own _business?”_ he demanded. “What’s your problem with me?!”

“Cartman, at the end of the day, well...I guess my problem with you is that...” Kyle shrugged, managing to calm himself down a little. “You never make an effort to get along with me. You never actually make an effort to see my side and try working things out.”

“You never make an effort to see _my_ side,” he snapped.

“Your _side_ is always wrong!”

"That's _your_ opinion."

“This is pathetic. This is just...what am I even doing here? Why do I even bother? You’ve made it clear. You’ve made it _so_ clear. All these years we’ve spent together, I’ve put in so much effort to help, and I just...it doesn’t matter. You don’t care,” Kyle murmured, rubbing his temples. “You never care.”

“What do you mean?”

“I try so often to help you. To change you for the better. I’ve played the devil’s advocate for you my whole life and I always end up disappointed or betrayed,” Kyle shook his head, stepping away from the couch. “You just don’t give a shit and yet I keep on trying. I keep coming back.”

“I didn’t realize you cared,” Cartman rubbed his hands together. “I thought you just...hated me.”

“I don’t hate you. I want better things for you. And it’s so evident you don’t care,” he pinched his eyes shut. “I know we’ve had it out for each other since the beginning of _time,_ but y’know...still. You’ve never once said sorry to me. And I still keep trying.”

“I...uh…” Cartman muttered. “I _did_ apologize to you before.”

“Yeah, you did once,” Kyle glared. “Never again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“Everything?”

“...yeah,” Cartman shrugged sheepishly. “For, uh...all the Jewish comments and stuff. And messing with you all the time. And also, sabotaging every single relationship you’ve ever had.”

“Do you really hate me that much?” Kyle asked. “You hate me enough to fuck up every single chance I’ve had at love. That’s all I fucking want, is one single chance to make it work with _someone_ and you won’t even let me have that. Why won’t you just let me fucking have that?”

“Because I don’t want you to have a girlfriend!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you love seeing me miserable! I get it,” Kyle snapped. “You’ve made that extremely clear!”

“That’s not the reason why!” Cartman glared, standing up from the couch himself. “I mean, that used to be part of it, totally, but _that’s not why!”_

“Then _why?!”_

“Because I don’t want you to date anyone!”

“Why is that your fucking business?!”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

Kyle’s eyes widened in shock. “...what?”

“I fucking _love_ you,” he buried his face in his hands.

These were the words that had always been buried deep, deep down at every large scale confrontation between him and Kyle, only this time he couldn’t keep them concealed anymore. His feelings were a disease and there was no cure; they’d remained covered up in his conscience, never in remission, always active in a subtle form for years, but now they were out in the open. Cartman wanted to kick his own ass for what he’d just said. Telling Kyle he was in love with him was like handing Kyle the very key to his misery. He could hold that over his head for the remainder of time and Cartman was so certain he would, because why would Kyle ever love him back? Why would anyone?

“I don’t hate you. I fucking love you,” he mumbled. “Go ahead, Kyle, you win. You win.”

Kyle frowned, his chest getting heavy. The words sank in but continued echoing in his head. Was it a nightmare or a dream-come-true? Validity from someone he’d never expected to grant him anything; it was a confusing, a conflicting, a bittersweet feeling.

“You...you love me…”

“You think I hate you so much, I don’t _hate_ you! I love you,” he stammered. “I mean, you think I hate you so much, but you hate _me!_ I hear it daily! Can you imagine how hard it is to be in love with somebody who _hates_ you so fucking much?”

Kyle softened. He could.

“I don’t know what to do, Kyle, I love you and I can–”

Kyle tore Cartman’s hands away from his face and kissed him hard. Cartman was taken entirely by surprise. Kyle was kissing him. _Kyle was kissing him._ His heart was beating a million times a minute, the whole room was spinning, and his body shook enough to require steadying. And then his eyes had jolted wide open, and he was disappointed when Kyle pulled away.

“Holy shit,” Kyle was taken aback by his own actions. “I...I mean, I didn’t mea–”

He was about to apologize when he locked eyes with Cartman and it was all over. Kyle took Cartman’s face in his hands again, dissolving the few inches he had on him, and they locked lips for real that time.

Not a kiss stolen by surprise, nothing done out of experimentation or desperation or as an attempt to determine whether or not Cartman was being genuine, but a real kiss. Cartman’s hands flew up Kyle’s back, gripping onto his jacket and Kyle’s hands slipped through Cartman’s hair as the two spent a moment in pure ecstasy, where they didn’t have to argue any longer. They could just enjoy each other’s company.

Weirdly enough, it felt like that was the very moment their entire relationship had been leading up towards. From being childhood enemies, to occasional friends, to romantic rivals, to frenemies, to what nobody could quite possibly define as anything but a symbiotic relationship based on surface feelings of resentment and deeper feelings of love, it was all sealed up and all loose ends were tied once they let go of what was holding the two of them back and kissed. And despite all the deception that had taken place within their complex, lifelong relationship, that kiss was the most genuine thing either of them had ever experienced.

“You asked if I could imagine being in love with someone who hates you,” Kyle spoke breathily when they’d finally stopped. “I never had to imagine it.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I didn’t have much proof to dispute that,” he shrugged.

“Neither did I.”

They parted and stood there in silence for a moment before Kyle made the first move and took Cartman’s hands in his own. “Do you wanna try something new?”

“What’s that?”

“Not being at each other’s throats 24/7,” he said. “Maybe save a lot of time.”

Cartman rubbed his hands together hesitantly. “So, like…” he bit his lip. “If we were in a...relationship?”

“A relationship,” Kyle considered. Now, being in a relationship with Eric Cartman sounded extremely complicated.

Being in a relationship with Eric Cartman, he was certain, would be full of bickering and disagreements and chasing him around in an attempt to keep him out of trouble. But there were so many things he did love about Cartman.

Cartman was creative. He had a crazy imagination which translated into a great sense of humor, even if at times he was too controversial. When he told a good joke his eyes squeezed shut and he had this loud, hilarious chortle, and tears would drip down his cheeks from laughing too hard. Cartman had compassion for animals and he liked art, fashion, music, too. Cartman had terrible ideas and many terrible schemes to go along with them, but he also had lots of great ideas. He liked dressing up and putting on shows and it was never a dull moment being with him. And that was something that Kyle did indeed _love_ about him. As long as Cartman was in his life, he knew he’d never experience a dull moment.

And believe it or not, Cartman loved hard, as did Kyle.

Cartman knew Kyle Broflovski loved hard because he’d never given up on him. There were so many good reasons for Kyle to give up on him too, but he never had. Cartman was someone who hadn’t experienced a whole lot of love or faith in his life, but he had Kyle. Kyle cared enough about him to never let him fall through the cracks and what he had considered to be annoying and inconvenient behavior, had actually been nothing but love.

But that wasn’t all he loved about Kyle. Kyle was so passionate about everything in his life. Like Cartman, he was a natural-born leader. He gave these long, obnoxious speeches, that Cartman secretly endeared because Kyle had such a way with words and he was so good at expressing himself and putting that passion into action. When Kyle really, really cared about a cause, he got this strong, determined look about his face and he was absolutely unstoppable. Whether he was playing basketball or giving a speech in English class, or risking his own health and safety to make sure Cartman wasn’t screwing himself over again and again and again, he put his heart and soul into it.

So even if it was going to be hard, nothing worth fighting for ever came easy. They loved each other, and that was enough reason to try.

Kyle squeezed Cartman’s hands tightly, peering deeply into his eyes. “I mean, I could do a relationship.”

Cartman’s brows raised in shock. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I think we should try.”

“Okay, but we have to agree on _one_ thing, for sure,” Cartman proposed.

“What’s that?”

“We never let Butters think he was the one who brought us together.”

“Oh, of course,” Kyle laughed. The two wrapped their arms around each other in the warm embrace of a kiss, symbolic of their new beginnings together and suddenly being locked in the basement wasn’t all that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> it's national boyfriend day so I figured I'd post this ♡＾▽＾♡ since the new season started, I made an instagram account to keep up with the show, [@kyleify](https://www.instagram.com/kyleify/). come hang out with me!


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